by Camden Mays
Initially, she had used Ramsey for intel, but when her superiors realized his weaknesses, they plotted even grander plans for him. It was the promise of wealth, and that the two of them would be together, that ultimately flipped Ramsey.
She noticed Ramsey’s concern as the FBI Agent had discovered the hidden camera.
“Not to worry. Our friends left something behind for them,” the beautiful Katrina told Ramsey.
The tablet’s screen revealed erratic movement as Hannah flipped over the photo frame to examine the back side with the hidden camera.
Inside the apartment, Hannah quickly turned to the other agents, “did you sweep this place?”
“No, the warrant…” before he could finish Hannah interrupted him.
“Get Out! Get out!” she shouted, dropping the photo frame.
Katrina pulled out a cell phone and smirked, “Bye, bye, bitch.”
As she began to dial the number, Grant reached across. “This isn’t necessary.”
Hannah had pushed herself into the back of the agent nearest her, driving them toward the main door to the hallway.
“I’m afraid it is my love,” Katrina said in her subtle Russian accent, “We have so much more to do.”
She completed the dial. A second later, a loud explosion erupted from the apartment. Flames and debris shot out of the corner windows.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center - Langley (Sunday Afternoon)
Charles Thompson and Nancy McCune returned to the war room. The usually cool and calm McCune seemed visibly shaken. They had watched the CENTCOM satellite feed of the operation in Yemen. It was like watching someone play a video game but not having a controller and knowing the images weren’t animated figures, but real human beings.
“The operation failed on its primary objective. Hasni is out of play,” she stated.
“What about the team?” Amy asked.
“We lost one of the seal team members, and three other Seal team members were injured. Also, Amir was killed, and both Capps and Cameron are also injured, although not thought to be serious. In fact, Cameron is headed back to DC, Capps needed additional care before returning.”
The crowded room fell quiet.
“I need to know what assets we used on the ground.”
“We had the three drivers, and we moved Pearl Fahimi there from Al Mukalla.”
“Contact Pearl. See if she can help get us photos or intel of the dead as they move them for burial. We can start crossing names off of the list. And there should be a lot to cross off. Then run a cross reference check on previous assignments for all four of them to see if anything pops out at us. I’m certain they knew we were coming.”
The thought sank in on the room, then the analysts resumed their activities.
McCune forced herself to move on, pressing the team for updates.
“Speaking of cross-referencing,” Albright said to Thompson and McCune, “I’ve been reviewing the data related to VX and Y44. It seems that the reports were manipulated…”
“…and digital files scrubbed,” Amy added.
“That’s right,” Albright continued.
“Amy was able to reconstruct some of the files and what we have pieced together looks like Frank Alvarez, the VP of Research and Development and Sameer Bashar were falsifying reports and disguising the additional production on VX into Y44 inventory. Y44 is what Cole found missing at Roslin.”
“How much are we talking about?” Thompson asked.
“I can’t say for certain, but so far, looks like maybefifteen pounds worth. But from the chemical profile, whoever snagged the Y44 would need to have or add a precursor material to activate it.”
“How difficult is that to do?”
“Not too difficult, I’m afraid, especially for someone with a chemical background,” Albright reasoned.
“What kind of impact are we looking at,” questioned McCune.
“That much could prove lethal with direct contact for hundreds, but if made airborne then thousands,” Albright concluded.
“Like, the movie, ‘the Rock,’” Thompson said.
“Yes, but the movie took some liberties, VX does not have the corrosive effect you saw with someone’s face melting off. You simply die through asphyxiation.”
“Oh, just suffocating, that’s all.” Amy rolled her eyes.
The FBI Director started to leave. “Keep me informed, Nancy.”
Thompson’s assistant stopped him and whispered something in his ear. “There’s been another explosion,” he said to the room. “Do you have a news feed in here?”
McCune motioned for an analyst to put the news channel on the big screen. Thompson’s assistant handed him his phone, and he conversed with the party on the other end while watching the screen.
Amy gasped when she saw the screen flash ‘One dead and two injured FBI agents in NYC explosion.’
Albright went to dial Hannah Jacobs when Thompson offered more details. Hannah and the agent she had pushed out sustained minor injuries, but the other agent that was in the kitchen near the explosive device when it detonated, was killed.
Both injured agents had suffered a concussion and were being kept in a hospital overnight for observation. After sharing what he could about the blast, Thompson dismissed himself.
McCune remained behind and attempted to refocus the team. “The best thing we can do now for our friends is to keep working the problem.”
Jason Albright excused himself and attempted to call Hannah, getting her voicemail instead. He then texted her, Are you OK? Call me.
The hours dragged into the evening. The events of the day had shattered the team. The stress of the job was pushing everyone to their limits. McCune responded the only way she knew how, she was a constant presence, and prodding the team along as if her efforts would speed the process.
“Anything out of that folder?” she asked pointing to an icon on Amy’s screen.
“Ma’am, I have a system for processing these…”
“Excuse me, Ma’am, you wanted to know when the President was about to speak,” interrupted Charlie, her administrative assistant. They turned the news feed on the screen.
Amy rolled her eyes and whispered to Albright, “Seriously, she’s killing me.”
The President of the United States addressed the nation trying to calm their fears. He stated that the bombing in NYC did not appear to be connected to the attack in Tucson. Investigations were underway, for both and the government would not rest until all responsible parties were held accountable for their actions.
Along those lines, the President proudly announced that Hasni had died during a raid by U.S. Navy Seal team and military advisors. Unfortunately, the U.S. had suffered casualties, but the leader of the AIJB was dead. Though the mission had been costly, it had been successful.
CHAPTER 15
New York City, NY
We do make a great couple; Grant Ramsey thought as he glanced from the bed to the mirror on the closet door of the hotel room. Katrina Nikolin lifted her head as she knelt on hands and knees in front of Ramsey as he grunted and pushed from behind her.
She knew she owned him as she caught his look in the mirror and gave him her sultry smile.
“Give it to me,” she demanded.
Ramsey grabbed her hair at the back of her head, pushed her down to the mattress, and obliged her request. It drove him mad when she played rough.
When Ramsey finished, he stepped off the bed and spanked Katrina’s bare ass. She laid there finally releasing her grip on the bed cover. She moaned and flipped her blond hair as she turned over to watch Ramsey, admiring his physique as he walked to the shower.
What a shame, she thought, knowing all good things must eventually come to an end.
She made her way to the shower, opening the glass door to join Ramsey. She took the hotel soap and lathered up her body, teasing Ramsey as she glided the bar over her curves. Just as he made a move to touch her, she pushed him back agains
t the wall, keeping him at arm’s length, letting the warm water cascade over her body as she caressed herself.
She loved the control she had over men. She had never failed in her missions to get any of them to do what she wanted.
Ramsey leaned forward unable to resist, but she leaned back and pushed him downward. Ramsey knew what she wanted and again sought to give her pleasure as she grabbed the hair on his head and pushed him down.
When Katrina’s needs were satisfied, the two of them dressed and prepared to leave New York. They would drive to DC to avoid the extra scrutiny at the airports and train stations.
“Have you heard from Yemen?” she asked, referring to Ramsey’s planted asset as he took the car keys from the valet.
“Not, yet.”
“Shouldn’t he have called by now?”
Ramsey looked at his watch as he pulled away from the curb.
“We’re still in the contact window.”
Ramsey maneuvered the vehicle through traffic until he was finally heading south on I95. Katrina turned the radio on searching for a news station and catching the beginning of a broadcast related the apartment explosion.
Officials are saying that a gas leak caused the explosion that killed one person and injured four others as it ripped through quiet upper east side neighborhood earlier today. Police have not released any information on the victims, but we have other reliable sources stating that victims included FBI agents and that the tenant of the apartment was not present. At this point, the police will not confirm any of these reports, but we will keep you updated. Reporting to you live from the Upper East Side, I’m Tracy Wells.
“I thought I would have gotten all three of them.”
Katrina sent a quick text on her phone. Ramsey looked over as he drove.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Just checking to see if our timetable has changed.”
“Hey, we’ve earned our fucking money!”
“Calm down, dear. You Americans can be so dramatic,” Katrina said putting her hand on his leg.
“Besides, we still have unfinished business, love.” She knew that Ramsey was not looking forward to his final deeds. “Then we will get out of this cold and sail to tropical islands. We will drink the fruity cocktails, and frolic in the sand.” She moved her hand up his leg to his crotch distracting him from unfavorable thoughts.
Ramsey followed the airport signs for EWR, Newark airport in New Jersey. They parked in an open area of the long-term parking lot and waited for the right kind of car to arrive.
A BMW 328i pulled in the next row over and once the driver left, Ramsey clicked the fob of his high-tech device. It unlocked the vehicle and disarmed the alarm and GPS device. The two loaded their bags in the new car.
Ramsey pulled his black SOG-TAC Automatic knife out of his front pocket and with the push of a button, the small black blade flew open. He used the knife to pry the EZ Pass reader off of the vehicle and dumped it into a trash can on their way out of the parking lot. The two returned to I95 and continued their southbound journey.
As they crossed the Maryland state line, Ramsey looked at his watch, realizing the communication window with the Kallah Majid had passed. Not a good sign.
“This is it.” Katrina pointed to the rest stop area.
Ramsey pulled over in the first rest stop, inside of Maryland. He opened the trunk of the car, Katrina grabbed her roller bag and headed to the restroom while he searched through his luggage bag for his stash of sim cards. He exchanged the sim cards on the burner phone and sat back in the front seat.
After retrieving the hidden package and changing, Katrina returned from the bathroom in her new disguise. She covered her blond hair with a wavy brunette wig and librarian type eyeglasses. The SVR agent had changed from her trendy short skirt with leather boots into a more modest business skirt, dress shoes and dress shirt with a jacket. She threw the large manila envelope in the front seat and rolled her bag back to the trunk.
As she sat back in the car, she received a text and then dialed the number.
“Yes.” She listened to her instructions. “Understood.”
She opened the large envelope emptying the contents on her lap — a new batch of IDs, passports, and credit cards.
“The Hilton Capital, room 915.”
“What about the equipment?”
“It’ll be waiting for us there.”
“You should go change, Mr. Ronald Jenkins,” she said referring to his new cover name and giving him a look at his fresh set of IDs.
“Really?”
A few minutes later Ramsey returned to the car wearing a brown-haired wig covering his sandy blond high and tight cut. The hairpiece went over his ears, sported a side part, and he had to wear thick-rimmed glasses and a thick mustache.
Katrina snickered as he sat in the car.
“I look like a damn porn star from the seventies!”
“Yes, my Ronnie, and you are well-equipped for that role.”
Katrina hoped to appease the man’s wounded ego.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center - Langley (Monday Afternoon)
Cole Cameron walked into the war room at CTC and Amy shot out of her chair to give him a big hug.
“Easy, easy!” His shoulder was hanging in a sling, and his back was bruised.
“Sorry.”
“No problem, where’s Hannah?”
“You don’t know?” asked Albright.
“I’ve been in the air for the last twenty hours, and McCune wanted radio silence. I just rode over with the detail that was transporting Amir’s body. What’s going on?”
“There was an explosion at Ramsey’s apartment in New York when Hannah was there…”
Cameron was stricken with panic. “What? Where is she, I need to go…”
“No, no, she’s OK. She’s on her way back here. She was released from the hospital earlier today. She’ll be here within a couple of hours.” Albright stood to calm Cameron down.
After Cameron settled down, Amy asked, “What happened out there?”
Cameron handed her Hasni’s leather satchel.
“I looked through his notes, but to be honest, I’m not sure my head was in the right place. Nothing stands out to me other than a few pages with numbers in a grid. Maybe you guys can pick up some clues.”
“Well, while you were out, we made some headway on data.”
“Alright, give me the rundown. Wait, on second thought, let me go check in with McCune and make sure I’m still authorized.”
Cameron was halfway serious. In his mind, his mission had failed, Amir and Baker were dead, Capps was injured, and all he had was a leather satchel to show for it. He knew they were compromised, but not sure how. And the hit on Hasni was professional.
As Cameron knocked on McCune’s office door, he entertained thoughts that his own agency could have placed that sniper there.
Cameron was taken aback by the hospitality McCune extended. She poured two glasses of Scotch and offered one to Cameron with a light toast.
“I know it was rough out there, and from what I understand you performed admirably and losing Amir...well, that is most unfortunate.”
Cameron nodded.
They spent nearly an hour in McCune’s office reviewing in great detail the sequence of events of the mission in Yemen. To his surprise, McCune was empathic and appeared genuinely concerned for her team members. She asked him about his wounds. Cameron explained he felt fortunate, the ricochet had just grazed his left thigh, only a surface wound. He lifted his left arm in the sling showing he had movement.
The 7.62 caliber bullet from the AK47, fortunately, had hit his armor plate leaving a grapefruit size bruise. A couple of inches lower and there would have been severe damage done.
“Well, I’m glad you made it. Maybe you’ll think twice before requesting field assignments,” she said with a grin.
“Have you spoken to your daughter, Jess?”
Cameron was surprise
d. He had no idea McCune cared or even knew anything about his personal life. His surprised look gave him away.
“What? Not what you expected from the cold-hearted bitch, huh.”
Cameron wasn’t sure how to respond. Everything that came to mind seemed disingenuous.
“It’s OK. A woman doesn’t get to where I am, worried about what others think.”
“Jess isn’t aware of the injury, ma’am,” he was finally able to muster.
“I think I’ve learned a little more about you, Cole Cameron. First, I underestimated you and second, I think you’re one of the good guys.”
McCune sipped from her glass.
Cameron sat at the chair in front of her desk and placed his glass down on the coaster.
“Thank you for saying that, ma’am. I don’t feel like a ‘good guy’ right now.”
“I know. That is exactly what makes you one. You know some people lose their soul in a job like this.”
Cameron nodded.
“Speaking of losing your soul,” McCune said shifting the conversation back to a more business tone, “we’ve kept an eye on Grant Ramsey since he left the Agency, well actually, since Ash Shihr.
“He pointed fingers at everyone else for that mission, but we suspect he played a role in its failure. He is good at his craft and hard to find and pin down, but we think he was turned by this woman.”
McCune slid a picture of a beautiful woman across the desk.
“Her name is Katrina Nikolin. Russian. We believe she is with the SVR. Have you ever seen her before?”
“She looks vaguely familiar, but I think I would remember if I met her.”
“Yes, you would think so, as beautiful as she is. But don’t count on it, she is very talented at disguising herself and playing different roles and capable of blending in.”
“So, if Grant Ramsey is working with the Russians, where does the AIJB come in?” Cameron asked. “Do you think Russia would covertly sponsor the AIJB. I mean I know the basics, but Russian politics are outside my wheelhouse.”
